Side by Side
by Bensler
Summary: The call would come. Of course it would. Without fail, she always called. Always. Every morning. At eight a.m. sharp, she always called. Benson and Stabler have come full circle...finally together and completely in sync.


**_A/N: Okay...I was super depressed when this came to me on Saturday. I rarely get this way, so please cut me some slack and don't shoot me, send a lynch mob or the hound dogs to find me. It's a one a shot, a bit different and I cried my eyes out while writing it and then proofing it. Remember I was depressed...have had several rough days...so please be gentle with me, but do let me know what you think. " ) Bensler_**

**Side by Side By Bensler**

**Monday, November 10 – Various Residences – Various Memories – Various Times**

There was no call. It was past time. This had to be the fifth or sixth time he had looked at the clock, the apprehension rising within him. Downing the rest of the coffee in his mug, he frowned. It had gone cold. He hated cold coffee. Checking his watch again, he was surprised that only another minute had passed. Maybe the kitchen clock was acting up again and was fast. The call would come. Of course it would. Without fail, she always called. Always. Every morning. At eight a.m. sharp, she always called.

He wasn't sure how it had begun. The morning calls. But it was now as much a part of his mornings as coffee and the newspaper. Even if the paper was online. Checking again he saw it was seventeen past eight. His stomach started to tighten as a small, worrisome knot began to form in its depths. Five more minutes. He would give her five more minutes and if she did not call, he would call. He turned back to his laptop and typed in and skimmed the headlines. He knew he would not be able to concentrate on reading anything. Not until she called.

His shoulder was aching and he stretched and flexed it to ease the pain. He was only fifty-eight but he had retired three years ago after putting in thirty-two years with the FBI. He had been wounded when his crew attempted to arrest a businessman who had been charged with money laundering. His partner was killed and the businessman committed suicide. The surgeries, therapy and recovery were going to take over a year, not to mention the emotional and psychological aspects, so they offered him full early retirement. For his injury, he earned the prestigious FBI Medal of Valor, which 1is presented in recognition of an exceptional act of heroism or voluntary risk of personal safety and life occurring in the direct line of duty or within the scope of FBI employment and in the face of criminal adversaries. Between the medal and injury, it was hard to pass up retirement.

His wife was an elementary school teacher but had given up her career for fifteen years to stay home with their two sons and two daughters. She went back when the kids were all in school and still worked. She had left early to beat the Monday morning rush. He pretty much did everything around the house and even cooked dinner several nights a week. He also taught a couple of criminal justice classes at the local community college. His Dad always told him he was proud of him, but he knew he was a little hurt that he had gone into federal law enforcement rather than public. Well, at least one of his brothers did and that made his Dad real happy.

Another glance at the clock showed eight twenty-one. He picked up the phone and hit the memory dial. He wasn't waiting that extra minute for her call. The ringing tone sounded. Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Five times. Come on. Answer the phone, he silently willed. The answering machine clicked on and he heard her husky voice, soft and sweet. 'If you have reached the right number, you know who this is, so leave a message and we will return your call as soon as we decide if we would like to talk with you.' Usually when he heard her greeting, he chuckled. It was so like her to do something so mundane as record an answering machine greeting in a totally unexpected way.

"Hello? Hey, are you guys up and at 'em? You didn't call. I'm getting a bit worried so how about answering." He waited a few seconds. "Well, call me when you get this, okay?"

Staring at the cordless phone after he pushed 'end', he turned it on again and dialed her cell phone. Same results. Voice mail. He left another message. Then immediately dialed his Dad's cell phone with the same results. Okay, he was in full-fledged worry mode now. He pushed away from the table, grabbed his keys and jacket and headed out he door.

They lived a short ten minute drive away, but that morning it seeming like it took forever. It was a beautiful fall day. The sun was bright in a crystal clear azure sky, a blue the color of his fathers eyes. Of _his_ eyes. Leaves fell from the trees and skittered across the road in front of him. The leaves still on the trees were magnificent in their bursts of yellows, oranges, reds and browns. A light chocolate brown like her huge, wide eyes, the once vibrant color dimmed by age. The brown eyes he had come to trust, to love. Eyes that looked at him with love and pride and encouragement. And, at times, disappointment. Just like any mom. She had become a second Mom to him and he loved her fiercely.

At last he pulled up in front of the neatly cared for cape cod style home. It's stone exterior mixed with the dark green wood trim and shutters giving the home the air of a quaint English countryside cottage. The roses she had insisted on having were still in bloom. He pulled into the drive behind his father's black Toyota Tacoma. Getting out he walked around it and looked into the garage. Her candy apple red SUV was in the garage. And the knot in his stomach tightened as it grew in size.

Bounding up the few steps to the front door, he rang the bell and tried to make out any movement behind the cut and beveled glass that decorated the door. After several minutes, he began to use his fists, banging on the door.

"Hello!" "Anyone here??"

Now his heart had gotten into the act with his stomach and was racing, nearly pounding out of his chest. He reached into his pocket and pulled the other set of keys he had brought. The key to their house. This house. His Dad's and step Mom's house. As he attempted to put the key in the lock, he was startled to see his hands were shaking.

As the front door swung slowly open, he was struck by the silence. Not just any silence but the silence of dread. The next thing he noticed was there was no aroma of hazlenut coffee wafting through the air. No smell of the pancakes his father always cooked for her in the mornings.

His hammering heart and nauseous stomach vied with the thoughts stampeding through his head to push him over the edge. He drew in a deep a breath and called out, "Dad? Liv?"

He poked his head into the kitchen, a splotch of color catching his eye. It was a red rose in a tall crystal vase on her side of the breakfast table. A smile twitched at his lips as he reached out to feel the velvety texture of the flower. Every morning his Dad would step outside, cut a rose, put it in the vase and sit next to the plate of pancakes he fixed for her. He took note of the fact that this rose was slightly wilted. His Dad had not cut one this morning. Seeing no evidence that they had been downstairs, yet nothing seemed out of place other than no one was around, he started for the stairs to the second floor. Fear now controlling him, he took the steps two at a time and upon stepping on the landing he took a right to go immediately to their bedroom.

The door was pushed to but not closed so he listened and then knocked softly. When there was no response, he slowly pushed the door open. They were still in bed. For just the briefest second he was relieved, but then…then he knew.

"Dad? Daddy? Liv? Olivia! Please, say something. Oh, no. No. No. No!" his voice cracked.

His father lay on his back with Olivia tucked into the crooked of his left arm, which fell along her back and grasped her left elbow. Her left arm was draped across his father's bare chest resting just over his heart. The yellow silk of her nightgown contrasted against her olive skin. Their right hands were entwined.

Rick couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He simple stared at the two of them. Lying side by side. He wondered who went first. He could not count the times he had heard his Dad say he could never live without Olivia. That he had to be the one to go first. She, of course, had always said the same thing. He had always believed them because never had he seen such a connection between two people as between Elliot and Olivia. The were the quintessential two peas in a pod. If ever there were soul mates it was Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson.

Had his Dad wakened in the early morning hours, disturbed by the cessation of her even breath gently moving the hairs on his bare chest? Or perhaps the warmth of her comforting hand upon him had turned cold and he sensed something was wrong. For whatever reason, had he been the one to find that she had gone ahead of him and in his ever faithfulness to her, knowing it was his job to watch her back, he went after her? Had he been the one to live, if even for just a short time, without her? Had he been the one to feel his heart ripped out of his chest as the love of his life slipped away from him?

Or had it been he that left first and she, no longer hearing the steady rhythm of his heart beating in her ear as she lay upon his chest, followed him one step behind, just like she had in life? Had she placed her hand over his heart, feeling it as it slowed and then stopped, willing it to beat again? Had she reached for his hand to hold it one last time? Had she been the one to feel that sorrow and devastating pain of knowing her other half, the man she loved unconditionally, her partner, her best friend had been torn from her?

The warm tears flowed freely down his face as he made his way to the bedside. He reached out to touch his fathers face, the familiar morning stubble rough against his fingers. He kissed his Dad's cheek, then turned and slowly made his way to the other side of the bed. Liv's side. With the back of his hand he felt the cool softness of her smooth cheek and brushed the white hair from her beautiful face. Even in her advanced years she was an attractive woman. There were so many tears now that his vision was nearly obscured as the faces of his loved ones blurred before him. He reached out and put his hand over their entwined ones and thought that now he knew without a doubt that people could die from broken hearts. And he knew his was shattering right now.

As his hand lingered over theirs he looked at his Dad's big, strong, rough hands. Hands scarred from life; from work when he fought with a perp; from his anger and his penchant for going a round or two with a locker; a trashcan or a wall; from playing hockey and football; from helping build a school project. He remembered the times those strong, scarred hands had tickled him while roughhousing; tousled his hair in pride or swatted at him for a smart comment; held him in comfort and wore him out in discipline.

Then he looked at Olivia's hands, softer, her fingers long and slender. He remembered how she had held them out to him in a tentative friendship when she and his Dad first started seeing each other. It had been an awkward time for all of them but especially for the teenage boy who still wanted his Mom and Dad together and thought Olivia was trying to take his Mom's place. She had assured him by her actions that she wanted to be his friend, not his Mom. She knew she could never take Kathy's place in his life.

Over the years they had become good friends and at some point without him even realizing it she had become his second Mom. She found her place in his life…in his heart. And he loved her as much, although differently, as his real Mom. Olivia had helped him through some rough times and was always there to praise and encourage him as well as tell him when she thought he was about to make a poor choice. She had been there for him when he told Elliot he was joining the FBI instead of the NYPD. She had sided with him that it was his life and his choice and she had made Elliot understand and accept it. Rick loved her so much.

Wiping the tears from his face, he found his cell and began calling his siblings. He wanted them to see them before he called 911. There was something about the way the were lying there enmeshed in each other's arms, their bodies melded together and the most peaceful contented looks upon their faces. It spoke of them, of their love for each other.

Eli, Elliot and Kathy's youngest child, was the first to arrive. He worked with youthful offenders in NYC's Juvenile Crime Squad as a liaison between the schools, ACS and the courts. He and Rick hugged each other and Eli made his way to the bed.

A soft knock sounded as Liz, Rick's twin appeared in the doorway. Rick went to her and she collapsed in his arms. They held each other for a long time, rocking and soothing each other as only twins can.

Next Ben and Marie arrived, Ben having gone by to pick up Marie because he knew she would be in no shape to drive. Benson Everett Stabler was Elliot and Olivia's son and Adriana Marie, named after Elliot's Mom, was their daughter and the youngest Stabler. After working as a case manager for ACS for seven years, she was now the stay-at-home mom of three. Ben was the only one of the kids to go to the police academy. He had become a detective with Special Victims Unit and two years ago was promoted to captain of the SVU. Elliot and Olivia had been so proud that he was carrying on the work in which they had dedicated their lives.

Maureen, the oldest of the kids pulled up right behind them and the three of them made their way in the house. She was now the District Attorney for New York County and had made Elliot and Olivia proud that she followed their good friend, Casey, into the field of prosecuting the scum of the earth.

Marie was in bad shape. She kept hugging Olivia, then Elliot, begging them to wake up and talk to her just one more time. Maureen was not much better off, but she managed to pull Marie away and was talking quietly to her, hugging her, when Kathleen came in, the last of the kids to arrive.

The second child of Elliot and Kathy, Kathleen, had the most tenuous relationship with her father and with her step mother. She had given her parents the most trouble…alcohol, DUI, drugs, B&E, theft. Once she had been diagnosed as bi-polar and took medication regularly, things got much better. But then her parents split again and as she had the first time they separated, she again laid the blame on Olivia. Especially, when the second time ended in her parents' divorce and then her Dad dating and subsequently marrying his partner of a decade.

She had made her peace with both of them years ago and enjoyed a good relationship with them. All seven of the Stabler children, in varying degrees of mourning and grief, now surrounded the bed. They were all affected deeply by the passing of these two deeply loved people in their lives.

"Remember when Mom and Dad split up the first time and Dad was really down? They had a case and Olivia knew if was Dad's birthday and she called me and asked that I bring you guys to the precinct?" Maureen spoke out, to no one in particular.

"Yea…she had gotten a cake," Rick nodded and smiled.

"Leave it to Dickie to remember the food," Lizzie popped her brother playfully amidst the laughter of the others. "I remember Liv standing apart from us and Dad looking at her with such something…it was years later before I was able to name that look…it was love. He looked at her with love shining in his eyes that she had thought to bring us to him for his birthday. She just smiled," Lizzie wiped the tears from her eyes.

"He was so glad to see us," Kathleen sniffled and wiped her nose. "She stayed with me that time I got in trouble," she added.

"Which time?" Rick asked and the others giggled nervously.

Kathleen rolled her eyes, "The last time. When I was diagnosed bi-polar. Liv stayed with me while they booked me and put me in a cell. I was so mean to her but she never flinched. She just kept telling me things would work out and one day I would look back on this and be unable to believe how far I had come from it." A tear slid down her face and she left it to roll down her neck, disappearing in her sweater. "And she was right. I would never have become a counselor without that happening."

"You know she never liked to talk about how she saved me and Mom after the accident. Dad was always telling me about it and how he didn't think Mom or I would have survived if anyone else had been with Mom that day. Liv would always shrug it off, but she did tell me one time that she would not have been able to bear having to tell Dad she had let his family die. I realized then that she still blamed herself for the accident. When I was in high school, I researched and made copies of everything. I gave it to her for Mothers' Day that year. I told her it was not her fault but I was so thankful she had been there to save me. And Mom," Eli recounted as tears streamed down his face and Ben hugged his big brother.

"Remember the trips to the beach and how Dad would always insist on us building a sandcastle?" Ben asked, grinning as he thought about those days.

"Yea and Liv always said our sandcastle had to be bigger and better than any of the others," Liz recalled.

"Oh, yea! Remember the year she and Dad made the sand sculpture of Mom's shield and Dad's gun?" Marie had her hand over her parents' entwined ones.

A silence fell over the group as they looked upon their parents, their Mom or step Mom, and their Dad. The only sounds were intermittent sniffles, the clearing of a throat and the rustling of clothing as someone shifted to wipe away the falling tears. Minutes passed before a voice from downstairs called out breaking the reverence of the moment.

Rick went to stairwell and spoke quietly, returning with the coroner and an EMS technician. They stood respectfully at a distance as they allowed the family to a little more time.

Slowly his brothers and sisters paid their respects, kissing, hugging, touching Elliot and Olivia one more time before they began to trail out of the bedroom. He was left alone just as he had been when he found them. She had not called that morning. She would never call again. Instead, she had answered another call. And so had his Dad. In spite of the tears burning his eyes, he smiled. Earlier he had missed that his father's face was partially buried in Olivia's hair and it was then that he realized Elliot had given her one last kiss upon the top of her head. A gesture Rick had seen played out too many times to count. Their love for each was strong, vibrant, proud, unshakable, deeper than any he had even known between two people as different as night and day. He smiled again thinking of their bantering and arguing and how no matter how heated the discussion, they always ended up in each others arms. Some things never change.

In death as in life, Olivia and Elliot were side by side, sharing this experience as they had shared over fifty years of life. Now they were together forever. One final time they were completely in sync with one another. Partners. Best friends. Lovers. Man and wife. The irony of it was they had managed to outsmart the one thing they had feared in their line of work and later as age had begun to claim their bodies. Fearlessly, they had looked into the face of their final enemy. And laughed. Because not even death could part Benson and Stabler.

eoeoeoeoeo


End file.
